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Edward Welch and J. J. Long

Burgin takes issue in particular with the turn to phenomenology that defines La Chambre claire and Barthes’ attempts to explore the affective nature of thephotograph. The move is a problematic one for Burgin as it entails putting toone side the insights of psychoanalysis (phenomenology, as Burgin points out(1986a: 83), not recognizing the notion of the unconscious). But it is preciselyin the domain of psychoanalysis, he argues, where some of the most pertinentinsights for photography theory are to be found.The rejection of psychoanalysis‘has severe consequences in that it denies photography theory a body of researchwhich, I believe, is crucial to its development’ (1986a: 83). Burgin proceeds toread La Chambre claire against itself, by suggesting how Barthes’ notion of the punctum can be seen to have its roots in psychoanalytic theory (1986a: 82–3).Nevertheless, Burgin’s engagement with La Chambre claire is a respectful one.Acknowledging that it is often a ‘mistake’ to take Barthes’ work at face value(1986a: 88), he recognizes that there might be more to the text than its contri-bution to photography theory – indeed, that a contribution to ‘photographytheory’ might be the last thing on its mind.John Tagg’s response to La Chambre claire is rather more bullish. He devotes theopening pages of The Burden of Representation to a lengthy critique of Barthes’reassertion of the realist position in La Chambre claire , and his willingly mysticalinvestment in photography as ‘magical’. What photography needs, argues Tagg,is a history not an alchemy (1988: 3). Tagg locates Barthes’ vision of photog-raphy firmly in the realm of his particular circumstances. It has more to do withBarthes’ grief over the death of his mother than with a rigorous and scientificattempt to understand photography:

The trauma of Barthes’s mother’s death throws Barthes back on a senseof loss which produces in him a longing for a pre-linguistic certainty andunity – a nostalgic and regressive phantasy, transcending loss, on which hefounds his idea of photographic realism: to make present what is absent or,more exactly, to make it retrospectively real. (1988: 4)

Tagg’s rhetorical strategy here is notable for the way in which he deploysthe voice of science, in the form of psychoanalytic discourse, to gain commandover Barthes’ position. From the perspective of psychoanalysis, Barthes’ under-standing of photography emerges as a symptom of his personal grief, a productnot of reason but emotion, with the implication that its validity should becalled into question as a result. Naïve and emotional responses to photography,it seems, no longer have a place in a discipline which can call on an increasinglysophisticated theoretical framework, one which Barthes himself, at an earlierstage in his career, had helped to fashion.The concerted effort made by Tagg to discredit and defuse Barthes’ interven-tion is an indication of how seriously he takes what he clearly perceives to be aproblematic, but nonetheless persuasive and powerful understanding of photog-raphy, and of the influence it was coming to have. The history of ‘photography